


deep

by encanta



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Hallucinations, apparitions - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/encanta/pseuds/encanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kink meme fill: "after that rather intense hypnosis session, will has a dream/hallucination about the shadowy version of alana from his visions."</p>
            </blockquote>





	deep

The sky is milky in a kind of way that seems off for a Wolf Trap night, but Will doesn’t pay any mind. He’d lost Winston somewhere along the way, bare feet cutting a trail through the thick forest underbrush, and now all he can hear are his breaths swooping in his ears and the crush of leaves as he walks. He knows there’s a thick stream not far off, but he can’t hear it and that’s alright. He doesn’t need to hear it. The thought of her funnels his body forward, deeper into the trees, thorns and branches catching his bare chest. Where has his shirt gone?

Doesn’t seem important.

It’s even darker now and it must be, what, two, three am? But the sky’s getting lighter even as the darkness swallows everything around him further. Now there’s a louder sound he can’t place and a sharp snap, the sound of bone breaking, but actually it’s just twigs under his feet.

None of this means anything but there’s a thread running through Will’s mind and it’s her, guiding him home, so even though he might be scared (should be scared) he’s not. He’s not. She’s got him. Alana’s got him. He’s coming home.

The woods surrounding his home are dense and go on forever but he knows just where to go to find her. Everything gets pleasantly quiet again as his mind develops tunnel vision and all he can see is her and he walks for hours and hours, his feet an angry mess when he finally gets where he was headed.

For a single moment where Hannibal slips in, every cut on his body _throbs_ , and Will’s shout echoes in the giant clearing he did not know was there. A flock of birds shudders out of one of the trees at his cry, blotting out the light from a heavy moon, and then they disappear.

It’s a miracle he even got here at all, he thinks, looking around. The darkness goes on forever, and he feels like that might mean something, like all of this might mean something, and where has Alana gone?

She’s right here.

The sound of Alana’s embrace is buzzing, a fly-blown corpse rotting in a ravine. For a long minute he can hear her rather than feel her even though he’s right there and that’s fucking terrifying.

“Follow my voice,” Hannibal says, but it doesn’t matter, because he can smell her, and that does away with him entirely, even though the whole point of the hypnotism was to bring him to the surface. Right now, Will doesn’t want to see him. Right now, Will wants Alana. Needs her.

When he finds her, finally, all neurons start firing machine gun rapid in his brain. Will ruts forward into her body without invitation and it’s cold vapor and it’s terrible, and if her embrace sounds like death than her voice sounds even worse.

It’s so, so right.

Will whines and the sky shifts violet and Alana smiles and his heart melts.

“Follow my voice,” she says, and he hears it in her voice – sweet, strong, authoritative – and he hears it in her inhuman voice – hollow, dead, a hundred voices speaking at once – and fuck if he doesn’t follow, and fuck if he isn’t hard for her.

“Open your eyes.” It’s a command and when Will does, he isn’t even taken aback and he doesn’t wilt one bit, because he’s seen this Alana before. A rose by any other name, you know. She’s all molecules strung out into a black spectre, all movement and ghostly mist and tar. These are things that should be bad, should be repulsive, but Will’s heart sings out in his chest that she might understand his own darkness, might have her very own darkness to match.

He didn’t think he’d voiced the thought but she’s smiling at him, one that reaches her eyes and that he hasn’t seen … well, it’s been awhile. Longer than before Hannibal torched his fucking life, even.

Alana is all around him then, dark hair ebbing in a protective halo around his face, so when she kisses him he can’t see anything. Here Will hides from the world a minute; she lets him rest. Her fingertips are pressing light into the small of his back and he’s hard against her belly as he breathes in the smell of dead leaves, nose pressed to her neck.

“Alana,” he croaks finally, clutching her, fingers sometimes slipping through her skin like she’s a reality that’s fading fast. But she’s not. She can’t be.

“What do you see, Will?” Her voice sounds like it’s high above, coming down from the sky, and he thinks that she might not be talking about what’s currently at hand, which is him rutting roughly into her body again, a volition not his own, his hands gripping tight to her waist to keep her still.

Will brings one hand up to cup Alana’s face, drawing her in for a soft kiss. It doesn’t last long because his mouth goes numb, and when he draws his hand back it’s spotted with what looks like dark, swollen ink drops. He’s turning his hand over to examine the ink when Alana’s gasp makes him look up.

“Will!” she says in alarm, and it’s funny because her voice is … her voice, and her skin is pale save for her pinkened cheeks. He likes that she looks debauched without much effort, and that thought distracts him from the fact that she’s Alana again and that she looks worried.

“What?” he asks, and then he knows what she’s talking about because he can see himself reflected in her eyes. He stares unwaveringly, even as he tears her skirt down and throws her to the grass.

The dark mist ghosts itself over Alana’s skin as Will slips down between her thighs. This feels right. It should be him, he thinks, as he pushes into her, feeling her open for him. He’s always been the dark one. It’s right that he should have her darkness, too. Alana opens her mouth in a silent moan and reaches down to help guide him the rest of the way in, the base of his cock pushed between her index and middle fingers as he seats himself fully inside her, feeling calmed and put together for the first time since he’s been incarcerated. When he shifts, he gets a breathless, “Fuck, Will,” and then he reaches up to pin her hands to the grass, starting a quick rut into her. Alana strains against his wrists, trying to lean up toward his mouth, but Will holds her down, growling.

There’s a loud buzzing in his ears and it takes him a moment to realize he’s hearing himself. He releases Alana’s wrists and reaches down to curl his hands around her thighs, his skin cold against hers, yanking her hips up so he can press himself even further into her.

Her voices echoes in his brain, a whisper and a promise: _No matter how deeply you go, my voice will go with you_.

Will presses himself into her desperately, trying to mate his very essence with Alana’s. Her heart could be his home, if he could just get to it.

“Please,” he groans, and now he’s not even sure what he’s asking permission for. Alana’s breaths are half gasps for air, half whines and when she comes, light pierces through the deep dark of the night sky spread above them.

Dawn.

Will comes and it’s night again, quick like the daylight didn’t even happen, and he leans down to bite his teeth hard into Alana’s neck, claiming her as they come down. He releases her skin and pulls back with a start, looking wildly at his hands.

They’re distinctly human. Alana, panting and wrecked, looks up at him from the grass and smiles. He smiles back too, but not for long, because she’s started flickering like a glitching projection, like she might fade from the world entirely.

She does.

“Alana!” he shouts, and then he comes to, back in the dark of his cell. His heart hammers wildly in his chest and it’s a long minute before Will sits up, still panting desperately.

“I’m right here, Will,” comes that terrible voice, and there she is, tucked in the corner, hair swirling like black clouds around her wicked smile. She sounds like a beehive now and how can no one hear this? It’s so loud it should be waking the entire floor of the hospital. No one comes to investigate, though, and Will sits down on his thin mattress, tries to pull falsity from reality. It’s no surprise that he fails. Alana sits next to him and takes his hand in hers. His dark queen.

“He’s been looking for you,” she says, sounding a bit sad, and Will jerks his chin up, expecting to see Hannibal.

Winston, his eyes dark and his fur black as an oil slick, pads over to lie down at his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what the fuck this is so I hope OP likes it. Took liberties with shadow!Alana.


End file.
